


fourteen valentines + one birthday

by wyntwo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Series Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 12:40:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20930369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyntwo/pseuds/wyntwo
Summary: A love story of two angsty brothers told through fourteen Valentine's Days and one birthday.





	fourteen valentines + one birthday

**Author's Note:**

> There is a brief moment of Sam/Jess, seriously quick and you'll miss it if you blink. Also, it's mentioned that Sam is a bottom but there are no scenes. Please enjoy and feedback and/or constructive criticism is welcome always loves! <3

** _Valentine, Nebraska • 1990_ **

The first Valentine's Day that Sam was actually enrolled and present in school for was in, ironically enough, Valentine, Nebraska. Sam didn't even start Kindergarten until the fall after he'd turned six, and then the following year, he was absent for Valentine's Day, so his first would be at the age of seven.

He knew Valentine's Day was a holiday but he hardly understood why, chiefly because no one had spoken a word of it, and the little bit he did know about the holiday was from advertisements and candies packaged in wrappers with hearts all over them. So when his teacher and class started to bring up Valentine's Day earlier in the week he asked Dean about the holiday, to which Dean replied with, "It's a day where you give the person you love a card. And then kiss them."

Well, that would be easy enough.

When he got to school and seen everyone bringing in cards and treats, he was afraid he'd be left out for lack of his own things to bring to the party, but the teacher reassured him that he had not a thing to worry about then ushered him to his table. They started the morning off with coloring, but once Sam asked the teacher if he could make a Valentine the rest of the students chimed in, so the teacher just pulled out a bin of construction paper, some glue, scissors, and coloring utensils then let them have at it. He spent the entire morning on his card, allowed his friend Lindsay to help him.

For his card he wrote out _ Dean _ on the top with glue, sprinkled glitter over it, waited for it to dry before tacking on felt heart and star stickers of colors ranging from white to pink to red. Finally, he wrote _ From Sammy _ on the back.

When Lindsay leaned over to show him her card and he seen _ Christian _ written on it, another kid in their class, he asked why she wrote the card to him. She simply blushed and turned away.

Huh.

When school let out John was there instead of Dean, so he may have pouted the entire way home but still bounced around in the backseat with anticipation. It seemed like the ride lasted three times as long as it normally does, but when they arrived at last, Sam sprinted inside.

"Dean! Dean!" He screeched, card gripped so tightly in his hand that it had begun to crinkle. When he noticed Dean watching him from the sofa, startled and bewildered, Sam smiled and ran over. Dean watched with wide eyes as Sam plopped down beside him, shoving the card at him. "Here."

Dean glanced down at the card and, once he realized what Sam was so overzealous about, his features softened and a smile grew across his face. "Aw, thanks Sammy," He said, chuckling as he ran his fingers over the glittered letters of his name before turning up to his younger brother. Pleased with Dean's reaction, he nodded and leaned over to give Dean a kiss on the cheek.

"Welcome, Deano."

_ A card and a kiss_, Sam thought, _ check and check_.

***

** _Erie, Pennsylvania • 1994_ **

The Valentines became a holiday tradition after that. Sam loved creating them, and if he wasn't in school that day he still made sure he found some type of way to get Dean a card. Even if it was made out of newspaper and dirt. Dean accepted each one with the same joy and gratitude as he had the first.

It wasn't until Sam got his first card in fifth grade that he realized the true meaning of Valentine's Day and the whole giving the person you love a card and a kiss. Definitely for love–just the romantic kind. But did he seriously want to stop making Dean the Valentines? It had became their thing, and it was special to them. So what if it was for the romantic love.

So really, the only difference from this holiday to the last is that Sam's got an extra card tucked in his pocket, along with Dean's card in his hand.

"Here Dean," Sam said, handing him the card. Dean grinned broadly like he always does, inspecting the card like the design has changed over the years–it hasn't; still a paper heart, with _ Dean _ written on the front, _ From Sammy _ on the back–then tilted his head to the side so Sam could lean in for the kiss on the cheek. He's surprised that Dean's still letting him do it.

"Peanut butter and jelly?"

Once Dean made them each a sandwich, one for Sam and two for himself, they sat on the couch in comfortable silence.

"So I was thinking that we could go get that album you wanted..." Dean said, and his cheeks tinted as he rubbed the back of his neck. "The uh, the _ Pearl Jam _ one?"

Sam's wanted _ Vs. _ ever since he caught wind of it releasing last November, and when he asked for it, he'd been shot down repeatedly until he just stopped asking. But then there Dean was, asking Sam if he wanted it. Did Sam want the album? After months of asking for it?

"Um, _hell_ yeah," Sam had said, and Dean gave him a stern look.

"Watch your mouth."

No matter how much Dean cursed, he never enjoyed hearing it come from Sam. It's not like Sam could filter his choice of words much though–at sixteen, his older brother had been cursing like a sailor for years. "Sorry." Sam offered an apologetic tilt of his head, a slanted smile. "Yes, please." Dean looked fairly pleased, and that's when Sam had a moment for this to register in his mind. "Wait, how are you–?"

"Don't worry about that," Dean cut him off, and he stood from the couch. "Well come on then."

\---

After coming back from the store, Dean told Sam that they'd listen to it after he completed his homework. It was only a couple pages of math so it didn't take long to do, and if we were being honest here, it should've been Sam telling Dean that he needs to complete his homework first.

Once Sam was finished, though, he couldn't wait any longer so he dragged his homework over to Dean so he could check if it was finished. After Dean confirmed that Sam's homework was completed, even though they both knew that Sam had it done (and correctly), he pulled out the Walkman they'd had for years.

Inserting the cassette tape, Dean pushes play on the album and says, "Let's see what ya' got going on. It sucks, 's going back to the store."

Sam pinched his arm as Dean snickered like an evil villain. Lying back against the bed, Sam laid a forearm over his eyes and let the music flow through him, nodding his head to the beat. Every now and again he peeked over to see if Dean was enjoying it as much as he was and, when Dean would shift and act like he wasn't paying much attention to it, Sam peeked down at his socked foot. It was a telling sign of if Dean was enjoying the music he was hearing, and when he watched his foot bounce to the rhythm of the song, he knew that Dean had taken a liking to it, even if he wouldn't admit it.

This Valentine's Day was different from the rest, yes. But for reasons Sam had yet to be aware of.

***

** _Helena, Montana • 1996_ **

When Sam arrived home, his mood was already low because he was practically vibrating he was bitterly cold, toes numb in his damp shoes from the snow, fingers frozen and icy against his palm when he raised them to his cheeks, jolting with a vigorous shudder. It's February in Montana. There's piles of snow on the ground, and Sam just had to walk home from school because Dean's ass was nowhere to be found.

So, when Dean came scurrying into the door, frown tacked his face, Sam had one to shoot right back at him. Hell, why was Dean even upset right now? Like he had a right to be!

"The hell were you thinkin', just walkin' home like that?" Dean yelled, and he slammed the door shut behind him with such force that Sam seen that walls shake, snow came falling down off the roof of the house, visible through the window.

"What, you expected me to sit around and wait on you?" Sam scoffed, pouncing up and off the couch. He was ready to argue. He wouldn't back down this time–Dean fucked up, and Dean wouldn't admit he was wrong because of his pride, but Sam wasn't going to just sit back like he does all the times Dean fucks up. He's never fucked up like this before.

"Um, yes, that's _exactly_ what I expected you to do. How was I supposed to know you were safe? Why didn't you just go in the office?"

"Dean, they lock the doors after so long. No one would let me in!"

"Well that don't mean just go off on your own. Anything could've happened to you, _anything_. God Sam, do you _think_?"

"Do _I_ think?" Sam exclaimed, incredulous. "Like hell! It's below freezing outside and you expected me to wait?! I waited thirty minutes for you, it takes over thirty minutes to walk home, and with the time it took for you to get here? Dean, that's an hour and twenty fucking minutes just so you could–could get off with some chick!" Sam's voice was a shout, venom laced in his words. When Dean opened his mouth to argue, Sam just cut him off and continued. "Don't even _try_ to lie to me. You don't know think I know what you were doing? I'm almost fourteen! You can't expect me to just be in the dark about everything, Dean, not anymore! And you had me standing out there in that air, below freezing, just so you could go fuck some bitch!"

"Don't call Hannah a bitch!"

"That _bitch_ knew I had to be picked up from school, and so did you, asshat. After I got here, it took me ten minutes just to get the fire going because my fingers were so damn cold they were _ blue_. And when I get sick, because I _ am _ going to get sick, you'll probably be out with Hannah again so I hope you know how much of a dick you’re being right now!”

Sam seen that flash of guilt, but then it was gone just as quick as it came. Instead, Dean's face wrinkled into a tight scowl. "Don't worry about what I'm doing when I’m out.” Sam’s face tightens in disbelief–is he kidding?! “I was worried sick about your little ass. You can't just–!" Dean stopped abruptly and pinched his nose, gave a heavy sigh. "Take your ass to your room and do your homework or something. And stop fucking cussin' at me."

Sam felt taken aback, hit him like a punch in the gut, like he'd been blown away. Dean was worried about his choice of words when he made Sam stand outside, for over _half an hour_, while he was out making art along his fucking neck.

Sam felt the blood boil in his veins, hands tightening into fists, and that's when he peeked down and realized he still had Dean's card in his hand. He never let it go, never set it down on the table or anything. He's held onto it since he dug it out of his backpack before he left the school building, that way he could give it to Dean in the car straight away.

Sam charged forward with thunderous footfalls, seized Dean's wrist and lifted it, shoved the crumpled card in his hand when he tried to jerk away unsuccessfully. "Fuck, _you_."

With that, he turned away and stormed to his room, door slamming shut with only half the strength of Dean's.

\---

Later that night, when they'd both had the chance to cool off, Dean enters the room and sits down beside Sam on his bed. Sam doesn't have a word to say to him at the moment. Usually Sam is the first to cave in, apologize, feels obligated to even if Dean was in the wrong. He hates when there's tension between the two of them. It's too hard with the way they live, and often enough, it's just a simple, petty argument and something that can be looked over with ease.

But not this time. For some reason, Sam feels not only forgotten, but betrayed. Dean forgot him so he could go and sleep with a _girl_. On Valentine's Day, _their_ holiday. Sam feels like Dean threw him down like a broken toy and turned his back on him, and maybe it's dramatic but it's how he feels anyway.

Sam glances down when Dean lies something down on the bed and finds the Walkman and a cassette tape. He knows what it is without even needing to turn it over, read the title.

It's a peace offering if Sam knew any better.

Dean simply takes his index finger, points at his cheek and gives a tiny, nervous smile, one that lifts one side of his lips. For the first time, Sam feels a flutter in his chest and he can't be mad at Dean, can't hold a grudge, can't resist Dean's form of an apology. Has never been able to stay angry at Dean.

He leans forward and plants a chaste kiss on Dean's cheek.

***

** _Sun Valley, Nevada • 1997_ **

Sam waltzed in, all bubbly and high-spirits as he handed Dean his card, smiling wide. "Here, Dean."

He watched Dean take the card, watched the grin spread across his face, content. Sam's heart skipped a beat when Dean looked at him expectantly with that lazy smirk on his face, angling his face towards him, and Sam leaned forward, pecked him on the cheek. Gave him butterflies, a change from this year to the last.

"So, Amber's throwing a party..." Dean's smirk lifted. "Y'know, Kayla's older sister?"

Sam rolled his eyes, only lightly. "Dean, we're not like that. We're just friends."

If only Dean knew that he'd been pining after him for over a year by that time, then maybe he'd take that bait.

"Bullshit." Dean gave a little titter. "I know what studying means."

"Your definition of studying is a bit different from mine," Sam said with a second roll of his eyes. "Not everything is about sex."

Dean snorted. "Like I don't hear you washing your boxers out every morning."

Sam's cheeks bloomed bright red, mouth dropping. Fuck. He knew that there was nothing to be embarrassed about–it was natural, puberty, and Sam's sat through enough sex-ed classes to understand what was going on with him.

Yeah, maybe it took a while to understand the whole jerking off thing and, maybe he still didn’t get that if he didn’t spank every once in a while he would just keep busting in his sleep, but he knew how to jerk off. Most of the way. It may’ve taken longer to get off than a horny, orgasm-deprived fourteen year old usually would, but he was capable of getting off. And maybe he didn’t use anything to slick his hand so his dick felt raw when he’d get done, but he could get off well enough.

Plus, he didn’t spend much time getting off because he was never alone and it was too risky to try in the bathroom, even when in the shower, because there was not a single boundary between him and his older brother. It's why he had so many wet dreams anyway, because he isn't shooting much during the day.

And he went through so many boxers that he'd been reduced to hand-washing them and hanging them to dry so he could bypass having to explain why he blasted through them all so quick. Guess his efforts to hide it was useless.

It's not like he had any reason to feel ashamed. God, when _Dean_ hit puberty? Getting off was all he ever did, his favorite hobby. Right in the bathroom, and he made it _so_ obvious–hence why Sam was anxious about going off in the bathroom himself–and did it continuously all day long. But Sam felt ashamed anyway, like a dirty, horny little pig.

"It's normal, Sam. Maybe if you'd jerk it more or have some fun with Kayla you wouldn't be so backlogged and shootin' in your sleep."

"Even _you_ weren't sleeping around at fourteen, Dean."

"Hey, you don't know what I was doing in those nasty ass bathroom stalls."

"Gross." Sam shivered, face scrunching up. He knew it wasn't true, but just the image in Sam's head made him cringe with disgust.

Dean ignored Sam. "How old d'you think I was, huh? You're about to turn fifteen."

Dean was right. He was probably a bit older than fifteen when he started staying out after school and coming home with the scent of perfume and girl slick on him, and Sam would be turning fifteen in just a few months. But the thing was that Sam wasn't so sure anymore that the first person he sleeps with would be a girl.

"I'm just not ready," Sam dismissed. "And I don’t know, a party?”

“Well what d’you suggest, Sammy?”

Sam considered that for a moment. What did he want to do? Why not a party? Usually, he’d be bouncing on the balls of his feet if Dean asked Sam to accompany him to a party. But on that particular day? Nah, he just wasn't up for it.

Later, when they’re curled up on the couch and Dean’s making comments on how Sam was _totally_ like the brunette in the cheap rom-com displaying on the small box screen before them–hot, prissy little bitch with a perky ass and a tendency to spill unwanted feelings and have care-share moments with everyone who doesn’t want them (yes, those words came out of Dean’s mouth)–he could understand. Valentine’s Day is just for him and Dean. He doesn’t want to share that with Kayla, or Amber, or even his Dad.

Just the two of them.

***

** _Avondale, Arizona • 1998_ **

Sam's mouth twisted as he stared up at Dean. He looked perturbed, uneasy, and Sam even noted his fingers were twitching with unsettled nerves.

"Yeah, Dean. I got it."

"You sure?" Dean asked. "I can stay if you–"

"No." Sam lifted a hand, clenched his jaw. "Go, I'll be perfectly fine. I know how to make myself a sandwich and I know to brush my teeth before bed, _ go_."

Dean simply closed his mouth, and at that point, Sam could see the running argument in his head. He knew Dean well enough to know exactly what was going through his mind at the moment.

Dean was wondering if he should stay, maybe turn on a movie with Sam after they listen to the album Dean just gave him, drink some beer and kick back. Or he was wondering if he should go have a good time with Nicole, who invited him out tonight, and lay up with some chick he'd known for all of three days. Also was taking account of Sam's mood–no doubt he was upset, but was he upset enough that he didn't want Dean to be around right now? That he truly wanted Dean to go out with Nicole, leave him all alone?

But that was a trick question. Sam could never be so upset with Dean that he didn't want him here. The true question was if Dean knew Sam as well as he knew Dean, if he was aware of that fact.

"Okay," Dean said, soft, and he stepped forward to ruffle Sam's hair before he turned around, exited the room. A few beats of stunned silence later and Sam could hear the front door click shut behind him as well.

Guess not.

***

** _Richmond, Indiana • 1999_ **

That Valentine’s Day was a particularly special one.

“Don’t go,” Sam called from the porch of the house they were in. 

Dean turned, surprise written all on his features and spiking his words. “Sammy?”

“I can’t take this anymore,” Sam murmured, mostly to himself. He looked down at the card in his hand, the same paper heart with his brother’s name written across the top and the felt stickers all over the front.

In the prior year, Dean’s been out and having endless nights at bars and with college girls, so many that even Sam couldn't keep up with them, and tonight he was going off to meet with a girl he’d met at the garage he’s employed at. Sam can’t watch him leave again, not when he’s had to watch the front door swing close behind his brother and listen to the roar of the Impala pulling off too many times, and tonight, he just refused. He caught the door before it swung shut and dipped outside, screamed Dean’s name as his brother headed to the car.

Sam made Dean a card and was going to give it to him earlier, but when Dean told Sam his plans for tonight, reluctantly, Sam simply slipped the card back into his pocket. He was angry and hurt, so fucking hurt and tired and drained from loving Dean.

But now he charged towards Dean, determined line of his lips set on his face and his feet sank into the mud from the water of the melted snow but he didn’t fucking _ care_. Dean could only watch as Sam marched right up to him, thrust his card towards Dean. With cautious movements, he grabbed the card from Sam’s hand and ran his fingers over the glitter. “Didn’t think you were giving it to me,” Dean admitted with a small chuckle, and finally, _ finally _he looked at Sam. He was waiting for the second part.

But Sam’s decided to change it up.

Before he could talk himself out of it or change his mind, he fisted the worn leather of Dad’s jacket in his hands, so big on Dean but he wore it like a second skin, and he yanked him down to Sam’s height–only a little bit, because Sam was in the middle of a growth spurt and he was _ this _close to being level with his older brother–then smashed his lips onto Dean’s, brutally.

He’d never even freakin’ kissed anyone, and it _ hurt_ their lips colliding so harshly, but it was everything Sam could ever imagine. Dean stood there frozen in place, and Sam just gripped the jacket, reeled him in even more to get him moving. When it didn’t have the effect Sam was hoping he pulled away, looked up into Dean’s eyes, those bright, beautiful eyes that were blinking wide open with shock, and he demanded, “Kiss me back,” before drawing him in for a second kiss.

That time, Dean got with the program and their lips slotted together almost immediately. Dean’s hands came up to cuff the back of his neck, the other one cradling his head. Dean’s soft lips were a contrast to Sam’s dry ones, but Dean didn’t seem to care, just licked his mouth open and tangled their tongues together in a way that left Sam feeling dizzy and like an amateur with no clue what he was doing, because that's exactly what he was. But Dean again didn’t seem to mind, doing most of the work and guiding the way. He tasted of cheap beer and mint, like maybe he popped one at some time but the taste faded. A tingling sensation rocketed through Sam’s body when Dean grunted, and he shuddered vigorously.

“Don’t leave,” Sam mumbled, lips mashing together. “Don’t–don’t leave me.”

“I’m not,” Dean responded, and with zero effort, sweeped Sam off his feet. Sam locked his ankles around his waist, heels of his feet digging into the dip of Dean’s back. “Not leaving you. Won't ever leave you again.”

***

** _Milford, Connecticut • 2000_ **

For some reason even though Sam and Dean were blood-related siblings and therefore breaking the law no matter what age they chose to finally sleep together, Dean was adamant in his decision to wait. Nothing more than a handjob and fingering, and only very recently was a blowjob thrown in the mix. Nothing else and nothing more, _ absolutely _ not.

Up until the Valentine’s Day of 2000.

Dean’s Valentine’s Day card was a bit different that year.

“Seriously, Sammy? ‘Fuck me, Dean?’” Dean read, looking up from the card to Sam’s eager and hopeful expression.

“I don’t see why not!” Sam threw his hands up. 

“You’re still underage.”

“I’ll be eighteen in _ three months_.” Sam stressed this with three fingers. “And we’re in Connecticut–I’m seventeen, that’s the legal age of consent!”

It took the entire day to get Dean to give in. That night, Dean opened Sam up slow and gently with his fingers then made sweet love to his little brother, rocked their bodies to the tune of Pearl Jam’s most recent album, _ Live on Two Legs_.

Sam would cherish this moment until the end of his days.

***

** _Amherst, Massachusetts • 2001_ **

Sam was expecting one out of two reactions from Dean when he slid the heart-shaped card across the table, along with the thick, yellow packet he’d picked up from Bobby; he expected Dean to be happy for him, excited, and to celebrate their special day with an even better reason to have such a great night. Or, he expected Dean to get pissed about it.

He couldn’t really say he was shocked when Dean stared down at the envelope with a blank expression on his face, yet his eyes were resentful.

“The fuck is this.”

His tone told Sam there’s no way Dean was actually curious about the contents of the packet. It caused him to fidget.

“Um,” he started. “Well, it’s from… Stanford.” When Dean didn’t so much as blink, he added, “University.”

“I know it’s a university, Sam,” Dean’s tone finally let the anger bleed through, the intense fury that’s so easily spotted in the way his shoulders tensed and fingers curled on the table, knuckles white.

“Yeah…” The tip of Sam’s shoe dragged against the floor, rubber caught against a nail sticking out of the carpet, and that’s a bit of a safety hazard. “Scholarship. Full-ride. All four years.”

“Good thing college isn’t apart of the family business,” Dean spat with venom, and a cold shimmer ran down Sam’s spine, “right, Sammy?”

“Well, I was thinking… that maybe…” Dean’s jaw clenched and Sam’s words died on his tongue. There was no point in edging around it when Dean understood exactly what was going on. It’s not like he could just drop it anymore, and it’s not like he could get it out in the open any other way without pissing Dean off just as much if not worse. “I’m going.”

There was every sign of Dean’s anger in his body language; the hostile curl of his lip, his flaring nostrils, the tick in his jaw, the heightened shoulders and the fisted hands by his side. Yet, Sam still felt something icy flood his veins at the way Dean’s eyes hardened before him. Never, not once in Sam’s life, had Dean ever directed that look at Sam before. Only a handful of times had Sam caught Dean giving Dad the side eye that way, seen it many times toward a monster or someone out for trouble. Never had Sam stared right into those stone cold eyes himself.

“Thought you were over this.” Dean gritted his teeth.

“Dean, I can’t stay here and keep living this way.” Sam, because he couldn't help it, cringed internally when his voice cracked under the pressure. “I’m not happy, not as much as I could be. I don’t like the instability and I don’t want to keep bouncing around the country risking my life, and it’s selfish of y'all to expect that of me when there’s a way out. You may like this, but I don’t!”

“You think I like this anymore than you do?”

“Well then come with me!”

Sam wasn’t expecting to ask him this way. In fact, he was planning on never saying anything about this crazy, completely unrealistic dream of his. But he’d thought about it for _ years,_ wondered what it would be like if Dean came with him to college. As their relationship grew stronger, the possibility of it grew just as strong, but still, Sam knew it would never happen. The look on Dean’s face only proved that.

“See?” Sam said. “You don’t want to live a life outside of hunting, fine. But don’t be angry with me for not wanting the same thing. Is happiness prohibited for Winchesters or something?”

“Am I not enough to make you happy?”

The question made Sam’s heart crack. He loved Dean more than anything, more than he knew was humanly _ possible_, and he’s the highlight of Sam’s life. But their life was holding him back, tying and weighing him down with a burden he had no choice but to take. Now, he had a chance to be free. He couldn’t be truly happy until he was.

The pause was enough for Dean to draw his head back, eyes flashing with hurt as he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said gently, then turns.

“Dean, _ wait_–" 

Sam could only get part of his sentence out before Dean stormed away, door rattling the walls with the force of it slamming shut.

***

** _Palo Alto, California • 2002_ **

When he received a package from Dean, he waited around to open it because he was too cowardly to when it landed in the mail a few days ago. But Valentine’s Day was a holiday so wrapped around Dean and his feelings for his older brother that he couldn’t help but tear open the package when he got out of class that afternoon.

_ Sammy, _

_ I know we haven’t spoken and that we’ve been on bad terms, but I thought maybe you’d give this a listen. It’s an oldie but I knew you didn’t have it so I swiped it for you. First album. Personally, I enjoyed Black most once I got past the “she this she that”, just had to remind myself your true identity was Samantha anyway. Happy Valentine’s Day little brother. _

_ -Love, Dean. _

Sam gave a loud and absurd giggle. Perhaps there was nothing very humorous in the note itself, but the joy that built inside of Sam’s chest when it came to Dean had to make an escape somehow.

As he laid on his bed, the song _ Black _ making his head spin and keeping that dimpled smile planted on his face (also his gut tighten with arousal–Dean noting how the song reminded him of Sam was more than enough for his thoughts to drift to that dirty place in Sam’s mind), he felt a lot better about making all those calls to figure out where Dean was. That way, Dean wouldn’t be left empty-handed on Valentine's Day like Sam himself had been dreading.

Sam just hoped that he, for some reason, decided to check his post office box and would discover the carefully crafted heart with the vibrant, red lip print. He had to borrow a friend’s lipstick for that, and while it wasn’t as embarrassing as he’d thought–it wasn’t at all shocking when Sam came out as bisexual to his small group of friends–it still made his cheeks tint the deep shade of the lipstick when he asked to borrow it. 

He remembered clearly how Rebecca propped a hand on her hip, gave him that suggestive grin that hinted towards something very dirty. Of course it’d been completely innocent–but then Rebecca had to go and make it the exact opposite, and it wasn’t his fault that he came blindingly hard to the imagination of Dean’s reaction to his red lips when he was alone in his dorm with the lipstick. Dean was always kinky, and it was less that Sam was kinky as well, more that he loved watching Dean get off on those kinks. And Sam with red lips? Dean’d get pretty worked up over that. 

Hopefully he would enjoy the lips he got on his card to make up for the kiss Sam couldn’t give him.

***

** _Palo Alto, California • 2003_ **

“Thought I’d give you your gift in person,” Dean thrusted the tape into Sam’s hands, and before Sam could even take a second look at it (though he didn’t need to–he already knew it’s Pearl Jam’s _ Riot Act_), Dean took Sam’s head into his own hands. “That way you could give me mine.”

And then jerked him forward and down to his height, smashed their lips together.

It’s a testimony to how gone for Dean that Sam was when he didn’t miss a single beat, slotted their lips together and dragged him inside of the dorm. Maybe if his mind wasn’t so wrapped up in and screaming _ DeanDeanDeanGodyesDean _ then he’d remember he’s got a group of friends over for studying. It’s not like they said anything as Sam and Dean tumbled to the back and into Sam’s room–just watched wide eyed. Yes, they knew Sam was bisexual, but they didn’t know Sam had a boyfriend because Sam had told them the exact opposite; no, no boyfriend, one-hundred percent single.

Later that night when Sam’s roommate Tom heard the front door closing silently, he understood clearly that no, Sam didn’t have a boyfriend.

***

** _Palo Alto, California • 2004_ **

When Sam opened the door and found Dean standing on the other side, his lips instantly twitched into a frown.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “You don’t get to just come here and fuck me and then _ leave _me in the middle of the night. Not again.”

He didn't wait for a reaction or a single word before he closed the door right in Dean’s face.

***

** _Palo Alto, California • 2005_ **

That Valentine’s Day, he gave Jess a kiss instead of Dean. When Pearl Jam started up on his iPod though he had to switch it off, no matter how much Jess begged him to play it because she apparently loved it. Hit just a little too close to home for Sam’s comfort.

***

** _Arlington, Virginia • 2006_ **

On a holiday for love, it was difficult not to miss Jess when it was the first time Valentine’s Day looped around since her death. But still, no matter how much he loved Jess, his love for her could never top the love in his heart for Dean. Not even close.

Ever since Sam and Dean reunited and got back on the road, there’s been tension there that refused to loosen. They never argued so much and so aggressively with each other before, and while it’s true that they both changed with the space apart, the distance hasn’t got a thing to do with the strain on their bond. Hell, how long could they go without seeing Bobby and ease back into the flow of things like they never split?

It’s the miscommunication between them. The hurtful things that were said, the hurtful things that were done. There was too much radio silence between them in the topics that mattered most. They both hurt each other in ways that were never intentional because they were too busy holding onto their manhoods and toxic masculinity, rather than open up and save the one thing they cherished most in this world.

Sam licked his lips, staring down at the paper heart he cut out and running his finger over the glittering letters of Dean’s name. He was conflicted with himself, unsure if he should give it to him or not, if he would take it and the kiss Sam so badly wanted to gift him or if he would crumple it up into a ball and toss it into the trash.

He didn't have time to build the courage when Dean came bustling in the room, mouth already firing off about the new body that just came up. The heart got lost in the clench of his fist and shoved deep into his pockets.

So close. We’ll try again next year.

***

** _Akron, Ohio • 2007_ **

“Dean…”

Dean turned around and lifted an eyebrow at Sam, instantly alarmed by the sound of his voice. Intense and serious. “Yeah, Sammy?”

With a quivering hand, he held out the pink heart. There was a lot more written on the card than the others, so much he didn’t get to say before and needed him to know then.

Dean looked up at him, and it killed him to see the hope in the shadows of the confusion on his face. He didn’t drop eye contact until the card had been in his hands and Sam had already begun to shift on his feet uncomfortably. Trailing over the words scrabbled there, his eyes darted back and forth with a rapidity that Sam wasn’t sure how he was supposed to interpret; good or bad.

Dean inhaled deeply, a large gulp of air like he’d been held underwater, and he brought his head up to meet Sam's eyes. 

“_Sam_.”

Breathed like a prayer, Sam felt a rush of relief and joy and victory, overwhelming, a white, hot blast and fiery kickstart to release each and every hormone to his brain and through his body. He felt sorrow for knowing this was the very last Valentine’s Day him and Dean would share together, felt jubilation for the fact that they’d be able to spend it _together _in the way they truly _needed _to, felt arousal with each biting kiss Dean pressed to his lips and felt boiling rage at himself for wasting so much time with all the angst, throwing away precious time they’d never regain ever again. 

Felt determination to do exactly as he promised Dean he’d do in that letter; save him.

That night, there was a brand seared into each other’s souls–linking them and locking them together, in a state where they were inextricably intertwined.

***

** _New Harmony, Indiana • May 2, 2008_ **

“_NO_!”

The cry was strong and demanding, took root from deep in his chest, no, his _ soul_, reverberated inside of him and was sent off into the air, resounding. It was a war cry, a shout of terror and pain for the doom that was to come, filled with raw emotion and _ power_.

The snarling stopped. The nails digging into and splitting the floorboards apart halted with a sound that made Sam cringe. 

A snuffling noise and a lighter, slight scrapes of nails again, a growl.

Dean blinked in awe, eyes wide in bafflement as he rose slowly. Scooting away and scrambling to his feet, he moved over to Sam so fast that he stumbled and collided into Sam’s body, gripping his shoulder. “You… it… Sammy, it’s just standing there.”

Sam’s chest rose and fell with each heaving breath. Dean was right. Somehow, without being able to see the hellhound, he could sense it’s exact position and each move it made. He could sense that the hellhound had stopped. He could sense… submission.

And most of all, he could sense the pure strength and power coursing through his own veins like an electric current.

Turning towards Lilith, he watched as her eyes widened and she demanded the hellhound to move, to do _ anything_, but no longer was she in control. Sam had the control, the strength, the power. It must’ve dawned onto her at the exact moment it had Sam, because wisps of black smoke curled from her nostrils and her lips parted on a scream.

But no. Sam wouldn't allow it.

His hand snapped in the air and the black smoke paused. His arm clenched with the strength it took, each strangling choke from her throat and windpipe enough to fuel his power more and more as he smothered that disgusting, malicious thing right back where it was, locked it into place, then murdered the evil bitch. Never would they have to worry about her again. The body that lied on the ground was no longer Lilith. She was a lifeless corpse, nothing more than a poor girl who’d probably been dead for months at this point. 

With a flick of his hand, the hellhound existed no more, either. It’d only go off and tear someone else to shreds.

Turning towards Dean, he feared that he would see disgust in his eyes, or worse horror, but all he saw was admiration. Pride.

Love.

“You did it,” Dean whispered, startled laugh burbling from his lips. “Sammy, you… you saved me.”

He grabbed the back of Dean’s head and drew him in for a sweet, tender kiss.

“I told you I would.”

*


End file.
